


Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Cream

by Gwynne



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynne/pseuds/Gwynne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Politics, family feeling and cream cakes. Just another day at Vorkosigan House.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Cream

Weddings can be very distracting. That was the excuse Miles gave to himself, although the truth was that he’d been in such a glorious fog of delight, satisfaction… and a little lust… (Ekaterin! His wife - what a lovely word!) that it had taken him a while to pay attention to more mundane matters. 

But now, safely married, (Ekaterin! She loved him! She’d married him!) Miles turned his attention to long-overdue business. 

As always, he planned it like a military campaign. First, choose the right ground. His library was perfect – clear lines of sight, familiar territory, easy to control. Weaponry – a detailed discussion with Ma Kosti covered that. Intell – years of experience, expert knowledge and close observation gave him all that he needed. Strategy fell easily into place, after all strategy was his strength. But this would require a great deal of sneakiness. Rat-cunning. Weaselry. Fortunately that was a strength too. 

He decided not to bother Ekaterin (his wife! Yes!) with this, it was an auditorial matter. Sort of. A bit. Besides, with any luck she’d never know just what he’d done… until he told her. Which he would, he knew – he couldn’t hold anything back from her. Nothing that mattered, anyway. Besides, this was too good not to share. Afterwards. Anyway, it just so happened that he’d chosen a day when she was down at Vorkosigan Surleau, collecting plants. Normally he’d love to go with her, they could walk by the lake, maybe he could take her out in the boat, or for a swim… tempting. Gloriously tempting. But no, duty comes first. Especially duties you really want to do. 

So, the trap was set and baited, now he had to hook his prey. 

It was easy enough for an auditor to get an appointment with Gregor. The appointment was set for the late afternoon, after the day’s Council of Counts meeting, normally a bad time if you wanted Gregor in a receptive mood. By ruthless but carefully invisible manipulation he managed to cut the meeting brutally short – it was amazing how fast it all went when you managed it properly. A bill would be proposed, with a surprisingly short speech in the case of the Progressives and Centrists. A Conservative would drone on with their views of it all. But then, instead of replying, and letting the speeches trail back and forth interminably, Miles’s cohorts simply called for a vote. They had the numbers each time, partly because several of the Conservatives were unexpectedly absent (apparently, by some odd coincidence, they were each busy with urgent business matters, District emergencies, family problems, and even broken-down vehicles, when Miles’s contacts and ingenuity ran low.) None of the bills were ‘big’ ones, anyway – the list for the day had had some last-minute cancellations. 

“Well, that was surprisingly painless,” he bounced up at Gregor’s elbow as the Counts started to grumble out of the Council chamber, “If you go back to the Residence they’re sure to just pile more jobs on your desk. Since I’m your next appointment, why don’t we make the most of the stolen moment and have you drop by Vorkosigan House for some refreshments while we sort out my few small matters. I’m sure Ma Kosti can rustle up something special for you.”

Gregor favoured him with a long, considering look. “Yes, I’ve never known a Council meeting to run so smoothly. Or so fast. Unprecedented.”

Miles managed his most innocent smile, “How about I send Roic on ahead with my groundcar, and travel with you?” He muttered a code word into his wrist-com, then accompanied – you really couldn’t say herded – the Emperor out to the waiting Imperial groundcar. 

Conversation on the way was light, just general topics. It wasn’t time to pounce yet.

Back at Vorkosigan House, home turf, Miles set the final stage of his strategy moving. Ma Kosti had provided her usual sinfully glorious treats, and Miles had made sure that all of Gregor’s favourites would be there. He was one of the few people who knew that the Emperor had a weakness for cream cakes, and he smiled to see many variations on that theme laid out on the trays, along with the famous spiced peach tarts, and other little chocolate and glazed fruit temptations. 

He waited until Gregor let himself be urged to try a third cream cake, then leaned back and took a breath as he marshalled his thoughts, “You know, Gregor - ”

Gregor carefully brushed a few crumbs off the Imperial jacket, “Miles, I’ve often wondered how you could be so good at your previous career. You’re the most overt covert agent I’ve ever seen.”

Sidetracked, Miles paused and glared at his beloved emperor for a moment, “What?”

“You’ve been strung tighter than a wire all day. You engineered the most flagrant manipulation in cutting short that Council meeting – not that I’m objecting, I wish you could do it every time. I do appreciate that you kept it to unimportant business, mind you. And now you’re practically vibrating with tension. I’ve decided that your success didn’t depend on fooling anyone, they were simply too interested in finding out what would happen next.” 

Miles drew himself up in wounded dignity, “Sire – I – ”

“Miles, am I being kidnapped? I’m assuming you’re not staging a palace coup. Is this some arcane ImpSec method of getting me out of the way while some threat is investigated?”

“No! Sire, I’m not – I – ”

“Security exercise?”

“Certainly not!”

“Terrorist plot?”

“Hardly! I – I – ”

“Laisa wanted me to take some time to relax?”

“Sire, no! It’s not…”

“Some devious plan of your own, then.”

“Gregor! I’m hurt that you’d suspect me of…”

“…of having your own agenda?”

Deep breath, “Absolutely not! I told you, I have some Auditorial business…loose ends…”

Gregor leaned back comfortably. He managed to maintain Imperial decorum by not grinning too obviously, “I’ve had your report on the hijack case. Impressively sorted out despite your wedding celebrations, and now ImpSec’s dealing with the final cleanup from that one. So who else is loose?”

“Ivan.” The word was out before he could stop it.

“Ahhh.” Even Imperial dignity couldn’t stop the grin, “Just how are you tormenting him now? And why?”

Miles ran through his carefully-orchestrated strategy, and discarded all the subtle lead-ins. “Well, I’m concerned that he hasn’t been rewarded yet. For his sterling work dealing with the attack on Dono Vorrutyer. Quite heroic, responded instantly to the threat. Good man.”

Gregor tilted his head to one side, apparently considering the issue, “He’s an experienced Ops officer. Plus there’s the extra ImpSec training he gets each year. I’d be extremely disappointed – and surprised – if he didn’t respond well in an emergency.” He waited for the next gambit.

Miles forced himself to relax. It was impressive to watch. Guileless smile, “He also responded to the political situation. He managed it for maximum effect, it was a stroke of…” by supreme willpower he kept his voice steady, “… a stroke of genius to deliver them all to Falco and Vorhalas. Calling the Municipal guard wouldn’t have had nearly the same impact. And it would have taken far too long for word to get out about Richars’s plans. Ivan …”

“Saved the day?” 

“Well, of course, he wasn’t the only one who… but…” get back on track, “…but he does have a finely tuned sense of political necessity. Which should be rewarded.”

Gregor nodded, “You’re right. And I’m sure you have a suitable reward in mind.” He waited until Miles was part way through his next word, “But first, you’ll tell me what’s really going on here.”

Miles’s outraged glare was met with a steady Imperial gaze. The room was silent for a long moment. 

Unsurprisingly, Miles spoke first, “Gregor…” he leaned back and kicked the legs of his chair, losing decades as he went from dignified Auditor to sulky child. He reminded himself that Auditors aren’t supposed to pout, and sighed, “Gregor…”

“What did Ivan do?” Emperor gave way to big brother, “And just what form will your revenge take?”

“He… he told people. About Ekaterin.”

“Told? I’m assuming we’re not talking security breach?”

“Of course not.” Miles was distracted by another thought, “You know, it’s amazing how – knowing Ivan – he’s never been any kind of security risk. Never been involved in anything shady, never caused any problems that would interest ImpSec. Odd, really.”

Gregor nodded, “Yes, he’s left the treason to you. You do it so much better.”

Glares turned to brotherly grins, “Go with your strengths.” Miles shrugged, “But Ivan, now… he told people. Fellow officers. About Ekaterin, when she came back from Komarr. She was newly widowed, and he sent pond scum like that Alexi Vormoncrief to bother her.” 

Gregor nodded, “And Byerly Vorrutyer. And Zamori, who is a fine officer and a good prospect for a young woman looking to remarry.”

“Yes, but… I told him. I told him I… that she was off limits. That I was…” He wasn’t whining. There was definitely no note of whining in his voice. Auditors don’t whine.

“You told him to back off, which I presume he did. But he found a sneaky way to disrupt your plans. You know, I’d never have thought he’d show such a devious side. Ivan’s really displaying unsuspected talents.”

“And they should be rewarded. Used positively.” Miles was back on track now. 

“I hope you aren’t thinking of Kyril Island?” Gregor looked stern for a moment.

“Of course not! This should be a reward, not a punishment. Something any officer would be proud to receive.” 

“A promotion?”

“That would be wonderful… but it might be a little hard to explain. And Ivan’s so…modest.”

“That’s one word for it.” Gregor’s voice was dry, but he was relishing every moment, “So what do you have in mind?”

“I thought… a transfer. He’s wasted as a general officer in Ops. I know that Admiral Desplains needs a new aide de camp.” 

“Aide to the Admiral of the Home Fleet? That’s a very responsible position. Deplains is being considered as the next Chief of Operations, too.”

“Ivan’s political savvy would be useful.” Miles’s voice was smoother than Ma Kosti’s cream desserts, “it’s a shame to waste his talent. And he’s shown that he’s ready for more responsibility. Ivan’s definitely earned this.”

Gregor reached for another cream cake, “Miles… my lord Auditor…. I accept your advice. Would you like to give Captain Lord Vorpatril the good news?”

For a brief moment the two men looked very much alike. It was in their similar expressions rather than family resemblance. “Thank you, my liege. I’m happy to serve.”

“And I’m happy to be served in such a way. The cream cakes are a nice touch. Ma Kosti really is an incredible cook. I don’t suppose…”

“No.”

“Just wondering.”


End file.
